


Hang a Shining Star

by TuppingLiberty



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Pickle, Christmas memories, Fluff, Frottage, Future Fic, M/M, Married Couple, Our boys being ridiculously fluffy and sweet, Slight Dom/Sub, Trimming the Christmas Tree, which is in this fic almost purely so I can make a 'hide the pickle' joke.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: Jack comes home to find Bitty trimming the tree, and helps him, while remembering the stories behind their Christmas ornaments.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeftWingLibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftWingLibrarian/gifts).



> For Leftie, who's having a bad day. Girl, you are my everything.

“In here, hun.” Bitty’s voice was coming from the living room, and from the decorations in the front hallway of their Providence apartment, Jack had a pretty good idea of what was awaiting him there. Already smiling warmly at the thought of decorating the Christmas tree, Jack kicked off his shoes and hung his coat up before Bits could yell at him for leaving it lying around. It’d been a press day, and Jack was really looking forward to getting out of the monkey suit he was wearing. Already, he was unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. He had to pause, mid-roll, when he rounded the corner and saw what was happening in the living room.

Jack was having a hard time not swallowing his tongue, honestly. It was just that Bitty was So. Damn. Cute. At any given moment, this realization could rise up and drown Jack with his own love.  


Bitty was up on his tiptoes, trying to reach a higher branch on the Christmas tree for an ornament. His feet were socked - candy cane stripes of red and white, his blue jeans adorably lifting up to reveal his ankles as he stretched his whole body out. Jack was pretty sure he’d never seen Bitty use a chair to reach something higher unless absolutely all options were exhausted, he was stubborn that way. His red sweater was riding up, too, revealing the tantalizingly smooth skin of Bitty’s back. And his pink tongue was stuck out between his lips, unconsciously licking his bottom lip as he concentrated on not dropping the ornament. 

But it was the little grunt of effort Bitty gave as he somehow lifted up even higher on tip-toes - damn figure skaters - and then his grin of triumph as the hook caught, and the ornament dangled prettily in the white lights of the tree, that really hit Jack square in the gut.

Bitty was flushed prettily when he turned around  to Jack, hands on his hips. “You can help me with the top branch- What?” From the look on his face, though, Bitty knew exactly ‘what.’ “Welcome home, Jack,” he murmured into the flickering shadows the Christmas lights were creating.

Jack was frozen, struck, as always, by his luck, by the world that had given him this. That had taken so much, but given him _this._ Luckily, as always, Bitty had just a bit more wits about him as he sashayed - really,  _ damn _ figure skaters - across the hardwood in his ridiculously bright and cheery socks, and ran a hand down Jack’s tie - and chest. Pulling Jack to his level by his tie, he somehow managed, despite their size difference, to completely envelope Jack in his...Bitty-ness. Jack’s eyes were slipping closed before Bitty’s lips even closed over his. By the time the kiss ended, Bitty had Jack’s tie off and tossed to the couch.

His arm around Bitty’s waist, Jack moved them into a slow sway to the soft Christmas music that was playing from Bitty’s phone - it was his a cappella playlist, of course. “Everything looks amazing so far, Bits.” 

“Yeah, well, I wanted everything to be extra-special this year, is all.” Bitty rested his head against Jack’s chest as they swayed around the living room. “Since it’s our first adult Christmas, and all.” Bitty brought Jack’s hand up to kiss at the golden band on Jack’s ring finger. This year, they'd told both sets of parents that they'd host. Bitty had been alternately out of his mind with excitement and nerves. He’d been planning the perfect blend of Southern and Quebecois foods for weeks. 

As the song ended, Jack brought them to a stop by the Christmas tree, turning Bitty in his arms so they could watch the lights glitter and glow.  “So, you said I could help? Seems like you were doing a pretty good job yourself,” Jack said teasingly. They both laughed as they took in the tree, half trimmed - conspicuously, it was the  _ bottom _ half that was trimmed.

“You chirpin’ me, Mr. Bittle?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Bittle.” Jack dropped a kiss in Bitty’s hair. “Okay, then, hand me ornaments.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Before Bitty, he’d never really taken part in Christmas decorating. The Zimmerman household tended to have a professional decorate for the annual Zimmerman dinner of his dad’s teammates, his mom’s colleagues, and Zimmerman family and friends. Jack was used to Christmas trees decorated to a theme every year, so when Bitty got extremely excited over the box marked “FRAGILE” in big red letters about twenty times, return address Georgia, that got sent to their apartment in early December, the first year they’d officially lived together in Providence after Bitty’s graduation, Jack was mostly confused.

Bitty had been  _ aghast _ when he’d discovered that Jack had no personal ornaments he’d collected over the years. He’d sat Jack down on the couch and brought the box to him, taking care to explain the story behind each ornament. There were ornaments from special family vacations or road trips, and from Bittle family crafting parties, and the one Mama Bittle had gotten Bitty when he’d learned he was getting a hockey scholarship for Samwell. He’d teared up a little unwrapping one, explaining that Mama had sent it along from Moomaw. The ornament coming to Bitty meant that Moomaw had pretty much given their relationship the big red stamp of Moomaw Approval. When Bitty finally finished wiping away his tears, he got around to showing Jack the ornament, an antique glass pickle. Jack had been even more confused by that one, chalking it up to weird Bittle Clan or Southern customs, he could never really be sure of which. Bitty quickly enlightened him - you had to hide the pickle, see, and whomever found it first would have good luck for the rest of the year. Jack had just shook his head. He’d helped Bitty trim the tree - a fresh one, Bitty wouldn’t hear of a fake one - with his ornaments that first year. Jack should’ve known what was coming, though. After all, he’d been pulled into just about every other crazy Bittle tradition.

Unbeknownst to Jack, Bitty had vowed then and there to start Jack on his own set of ornaments. Christmas morning that year, Bitty had practically burst apart at the seams as he waited for Jack to open his Christmas present. 

“Remember this one, baby?” Jack shook himself from his memories, then smiled down at the ornament Bitty had handed him to hang. 

“I was just thinking of this.” Jack leaned over to brush his lips across Bitty’s, then turned to hang the first ornament Bitty had ever given him. 

“The start of somethin' beautiful, for sure,” Bitty added with a grin as they both watched the kitschy moose wearing a sweater painted like the Canadian flag glimmer in the lights.

“Yes it was,” Jack murmured. “What’s next?”

“Ooo!” Eyes bright, Bitty handed off another one.

“Hey, honeymoon in Paris,” Jack said, hanging the glass Eiffel Tower next to his moose. “Hey!” He laughed as Bitty goosed him.

“Nothing like celebratin' when this ass became my official property,” Bitty purred as he sunk his fingers into said ass.

“Like everything else, Mr. Bittle, my ass is only  _ half _ yours. Just like everything else, right down the middle.”

He felt Bitty press a kiss to his mid-back, hands still on his ass. “Hmm, do I get to choose? Do I  _ have _ to choose? This is such a Sophie’s Choice.” He alternated squeezing cheeks as Jack nearly doubled over with laughter. “What was that you said about the middle? I think that’s my favorite part.”

“Cheeky,” Jack replied, wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks. 

“No, you are.”

Before Jack knew what was happening, Bitty had squatted to sink a little nip, right in the middle of his left butt cheek. “Hey!” he exclaimed again with a laugh as Bitty straightened.

“Sorry, babe, you know I can’t help myself.” A small swat on his ass had him shivering. “C’mon, Jack, stop bein’ so lazy, we’ve got to finish trimmin’ the tree.”

Jack pulled Bitty in for another kiss, unable to resist that sassy mouth. “Hand me another one, then, won’t you?”

“Bossy.”

“Chirp chirp chirp.” Bitty pressed an ornament into his hand. 

It was a replica of the Stanley Cup, engraved with 2018, the year the Falconers had won. His parents had gotten it for him. Never one to let a chirping opportunity by, though, they’d hired someone to make a little ceramic baby Jack to sit inside. Jack smiled as he hung it.

And so it continued, filling the tree with their ornaments - no, their memories, Jack thought. The Fiji vacation where Bitty had proposed. The silly clay disks Shitty and Lardo had painted for them. The clumsy sugar dough ornament Jack had made himself at a Bittle Thanksgiving. Jack insisted it was a hockey stick, but  _ everyone _ was a critic. Every ornament, hung with Bitty’s direction and careful eye, was like the post-its he kept on their fridge… he carried each one in his mind, in his heart, like talismans, for when things got too hard. They still did; he’d never be ‘free’ of the anxiety, the self-doubt, the obsessive striving for excellence. But these helped keep them at bay.

When the last ornament was hung, Jack pulled Bitty back into his arms and to the couch, rocking him slowly as they watched the lights flicker. "Still need to hide the pickle," Bitty murmured. When Jack snorted, Bitty pinched Jack's thigh lightly. "Perv."

"Here's what I want to know, though. Why do you hide the pickle when it's just the two of us, so I'm the only one that'll get the luck?"

"Because I already have the luck I need." Bitty leaned back on Jack’s shoulder, and the slow rocking gradually stilled as their mouths met. With a little moan, Bitty turned on his lap, koalaing his limbs around Jack and sinking deeper into the kiss. “God, I missed you,” he whispered against Jack’s lips breathlessly. His fingers dug into Jack’s hair, mussing up the work of the stylist hours ago.

“Not planning on going anywhere,” Jack replied, licking over Bitty’s bottom lip before sliding their mouths together again. 

“Except, maybe, the bedroom?” Bitty suggested with a smile.

“How did I marry someone so brilliant?” Jack boosted Bitty up, wrapping his legs around his own waist and carrying him to their bedroom. “Ahh,” he sighed, when he opened the door. Elf Bitty had hit here, too. The only Christmas decorations their bedroom got was a simple string of white lights hung in the window. They were also the only decorations that stayed up until, as Bitty put it, ‘New England had the decency to provide an appropriate amount of light.’  


He set Bitty down, reaching to lift his sweater hem up. Bitty’s brown eyes were huge and unfathomable on his as he slowly undressed Bitty, piece by piece, revealing smooth skin centimeter by centimeter. Bitty was beautiful in any light, truly, but in the soft white glow of a strand of Christmas lights...it was one of the moments that Jack wished he could capture with his camera, but knew any photo would never do it justice.  


Bitty returned the favor, his slender fingers lingering in all the spots he knew drove Jack crazy. By the time Bitty was pulling them down to the bed, Jack was hard, aching against Bitty’s thigh. Bitty reached down to stroke him steadily, eyes on his. “What do you want tonight, Jack?” Tongue in cheek, he continued. "Want to play 'hide the pickle?"  


Snorting and shaking with want, Jack wrapped his arms around Bitty. "God, I love you, Eric." Thinking of the pickle made him think of the ornaments, though, and of the life they’d built together. He shifted, pressing Bitty back to the sheets. “I want to thank you. Show you how much you mean to me.”

“Oh sweetie, I already know that,” Bitty said with a smile, threading his fingers through Jack’s hair. “But if you feel like reminding me, go ahead.”

Jack knew his grin was a little wolfish as he started down Bitty’s body, exploiting every weakness he’d learned over the years. A nip under his ear. A tug on his nipple, then blowing to watch it pebble. A dip into his belly button to make his stomach muscles quiver. His hands, entirely encompassing Bitty’s gorgeous little ass, as he found the head of Bitty’s cock with his mouth.

Bitty’s hands were still in his hair, tugging deliciously, just the right amount of pressure to have Jack rutting against the bed as he took Bitty fully down his throat.

“Ah, Jack, there’s my good Jack,” Bitty mumbled, and Jack’s chest felt too full. Bitty knew exactly how to wind him up, even when he wasn’t actually anywhere near Jack’s cock. “God, you look so beautiful like this.” Bitty swiped his floppy bangs out of his face so he could see Jack’s mouth take him, better. “Oh, fuck, baby-” Bitty’s chatter turned into meaningless strings of words and phrases, Southernisms that made Jack preen under the praise.  _ Crisse, _ he loved giving to Bitty, loved being at his service.

“Jack- Jack-” Bitty gasped, pulling Jack’s hair earnestly as he pumped his hips harder, fucking into Jack’s throat. “Oh-” and then he was flooding Jack’s throat with cum, and Jack was swallowing it greedily, licking around the head to make sure he’d caught every last drop. Bitty’s hands were tugging, and Jack followed, he’d always follow Bitty, always. Bitty’s mouth was on his, licking inside, sharing the taste of himself as he wrapped his leg around Jack and dug his heel into Jack’s ass, pulling him closer, letting him grind his cock against Bitty’s stomach. “Come for me, baby,” Bitty said on a gasp, tugging at Jack’s hair a little more.

The mild pain, so pleasant, helped tip Jack over, and he came all over his husband, before collapsing to the side to float for awhile without crushing Bitty.

Bitty’s hands were still smoothing over him when he came slowly back to reality. “Merry Christmas, Jack,” Bitty murmured as he stroked steady, calming hands down Jack’s back. 

Jack just let himself bury his face in Bitty’s neck, licking a little at the sweat there before making himself at home. “Thank you, Eric,” he replied against Bitty’s skin.

They’d get up and take a shower and start dinner in a little while, Bitty was explaining to him, but for now, Jack could just drift for a bit if he wanted.

Happy, content, Jack closed his eyes and let himself do exactly that.

**Author's Note:**

> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_pickle
> 
> This is my first pure Check Please fic. Normally I write Stormpilot. In fact, I've written 500k of Stormpilot since January, so if you liked this but aren't fandom specific, you might try that! :)
> 
> I'm @animalasaysrauer on tumblr, where I mostly post Star Wars and Check Please with a side of politics and whatever the fuck I fancy.


End file.
